My Immortal
by Terra4
Summary: GinnyTom, songfic to Evanescence's my immortal. Oneshot, short. Ginny reminisces Tom and her first year, and comes to a conclusion... pg13.


**My Immortal**

Ginny picked up the brush that was standing on her vanity table and started to comb her hair. Smalltendrils hung to its teeth while she was looking herself carefully over in the mirror. She still lived at the Burrow; at twenty years old, her job didn't pay much and she thankfully relied on her family – but she didn't like the atmosphere so much anymore. Her siblings' living there too made the place quite full and she longed for a small, peaceful apartment.

_I'm so tired of being here_

The war was still raging outside her doors, and she always lived, like the rest of the community, in silent dread. It had come to the point where, though she loved solitude, she couldn't bear going anywhere alone, and needed a light by her bed constantly to sleep, as if afraid of the dark. Also, she kept reliving her first year and the memories of her journal and the young Tom Riddle kept her awake most nights – if not, then she would have nightmares over it.

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

She worked with the Order now, which Harry led. They had already destroyed the Dark Lord once, but he came back within two years. Those two years had been punctuated with many a trial against captured Death Eaters and their consequent going to Azkaban, new legislatures concerning magical creatures (the vampires had allied with Voldemort and the government had been busy trying to decide how best to approach them now), and stumped bouts of celebration, as the community could hardly believe the war was finally over. Of course, it wasn't.

Harry had been a great leader and a greater Auror, catching Dark servants left and right and bringing them to justice. They had destroyed many horcruxes but the Dark Lord was still around, still wreaking havoc.

_And if you have to leave_

_I wish that you would just leave_

She still thought of the young Tom Riddle and his charming smile, his sparkly eyes… Eyes that looked like a dark blue sky strewn with stars – they actually held tiny, shining dots in their depths. Those eyes were beautiful. She could hardly reconcile the now red-eyed, old man that Voldemort had become with the beautiful, handsome teenager she had met via the diary. A diary that she'd kept… After the end of her first year, she had asked Dumbledore for it and now that it was harmless, he'd accepted. She kept it hidden under her pillow.

She couldn't spend a day without thinking of his startlingly blue eyes. It haunted her… what she'd done… what she'd _almost_ done… who she'd been.

_Cause your presence still lingers here_

_And it won't leave me alone_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

While she was writing in that diary, she and Tom had been _friends_. He was kind, understanding, cultured and bright. He told her everything, just as she did. He'd tell her of his worries, his memories of the orphanage, his hurt that his parents weren't around for him, his jealousy of those who had a family… She in turn shared her crush on Harry, her passing resentment of her brothers for playing pranks on her, her bad and good memories, the pressure of living up to the reputation of being a Gryffindor… They'd console each other, kindly, gently, almost lovingly… He always had the right words to say to her, he was an exceptional listener and she in turn did her very best to help _him_ out, to show him that life could be fun and bright and _wonderful_, if only one was to try hard enough.

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you screamed I'd fight away all of yours fears_

_I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have all of me_

She hadn't dared write in any more of the diary's pages, she didn't want to spoil it. Tom had been a cheerful youngster, she remembered, but now they had to _kill_ him. They wanted to destroy a boy whose only wrong had been the curiosity that led him to the Dark Arts.

_You used to captivate me by your resonating light_

But Tom had left her side now, and she was alone. She had no best friends, no close friends bar Harry and Hermione, hadn't gotten along with her year-mates… perhaps she was older than them, not physically of course, but she'd always felt, as her year-mates singled her out, that they were immature. Maybe she'd had to grow up too quickly, the diary and its aftermath bombarding her with worries that only a mature person would have. She'd had to try and live with the stigma of having been the one to almost bring the Dark Lord back, and it had been more than just hard. She'd had to struggle hard against prejudices, taunts, insults… Now, years later, she had to struggle against herself, because every time she thought about the Order, she realized that they had to kill a man, a man with ideals, with goals, with views of right and wrong, a man who wanted some things legalized and some others not… a man who'd been a young, harmless boy… a man who'd been Tom Riddle. And in those instances, she just couldn't bring herself to fight him. She couldn't fight against Tom.

It was for Tom that she'd grown up, because after him, she'd never been the same. It was as if he'd been the one to deflower her, as she left all innocence behind after nearly losing her soul to him.

_Now I'm bound by the life you left behind_

Last night she had woken up in a cold sweat, the last words of her dream still ringing in her ears: "_Ginny, please save me_". She remembered how they'd stood, down in the Chamber of Secrets, her life pouring into him, his heartless taunts and arrogance so unlike the Tom she'd known before. As she slowly died, he slowly came back to life, as if a scale was tilting with one end heavier than the other. He'd told her who he was, what his plans were, and she screamed in horror. He laughed at her, mercilessly.

_Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams_

_Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me_

Then his eyes had taken on a gentler sheen and he approached her; she was down on her knees, crying silently and she felt his arms encircle her, lift her up, up to his face, and she stared at him, eyes glinting with tears, wondering for an irrational moment if he was going to kiss her, and he did… her salty tears trickled down her cheeks to their mouths and he licked at them, then hugged her close and whispered into her ear, gentle, comforting words, words that made her life seem pointless, her death seem like an accomplishment, like a gift, like a way to rise over and beyond, her bringing him back to life was a work of love, he _needed_ this and she readily offered it…

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you screamed I'd fight away all of yours fears_

_I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have all of me_

Years later she still tried hard to rationalize, to tell herself who Voldemort was and what he'd done, to accept that he wasn't that kind boy she'd known in the diary; that he'd changed, killed his family. But just as it was hard to accept Tom Riddle and Voldemort were the same person, it was impossible to accept that they were not – horrible, even. The young boy she'd so loved to talk to was gone, he was an obsession, a phantom of his real self, a parody of kindness, unreal… He wasn't real. He'd never existed, she told herself, but it wasn't anything she'd believe. Tom Riddle wasn't a monster, had never been, would never be…

_I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_

She shakily got to her feet and walked over to her bed, reaching for the diary under her pillow, staring at the hole Harry had made into it. It had a green cover, with "journal" written on it in sparkling silver. She flipped needlessly through the pages and closed it again, blinking tears away.

_But though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along_

Voldemort would never be the friend Tom Riddle had been. He'd probably have her killed at the first opportunity. He'd never been a _real_ friend, just a calculating, manipulative, evil man. Hadn't he?

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you screamed I'd fight away all of yours fears_

_I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have all of me_

She still loved him. And the only way for her to have him back would be to kill Harry.


End file.
